


Praise

by the_chaotic_lesbian



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Body Worship, Making Out, Praise Kink, Self-Indulgent, ferdinand likes kissing, there's not much else, this entire fic is too self-induglent, this is technically college au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:47:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24173860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_chaotic_lesbian/pseuds/the_chaotic_lesbian
Summary: Ferdinand craves someone to pleasure. Someone to spoil. He wants to feel needed, loved.As it happens, Linhardt craves touch.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Linhardt von Hevring, technically it's poly beagle boys but that's very background
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Praise

**Author's Note:**

> This is so self-indulgent and I entirely blame the mlm server and Beary for the ideas. 
> 
> One day this is going to be a part of a fleshed out poly beagle boys college au... one day...
> 
> anyways, enjoy!

There’s never just one kiss, Ferdinand realizes. 

Not when he’s aching for affection, craving it. He feels so shamefully unclean in the way he dreams about each of his roommates, in the things he wishes he could do for them. Kissing Caspar is the easiest thing in the world, except Caspar had bounced away from it far quicker than Ferdinand had hoped, away without a care in the world. 

And it isn’t as though Ferdinand is some… horndog, like some certain people he knows. He isn’t! He may desperately crave physical intimacy, but it… it’s different. Really. What he desires isn’t some fling, some desire for simple pleasure. No, he is a man of refinery, and what he longs for is someone he can whisper sweet nothings to, someone he can please. 

It’s a strange thing to desire, and yet every fibre of his body yearns for it. 

The first time he tries to kiss Linhardt, it’s clumsy and not very well planned, and his nose ends up bloody and his ego bruised. He had tried to be romantic, and it backfired, because of course it did, it’s  _ Linhardt,  _ what was he expecting, really?

It had earned him a kiss in the end, though. His head in Linhardt’s lap, he remembers seeing Lin bend over, his hair framing his head like some sort of halo, blue eyes half-lidded and creased with affection. It had made Ferdinand’s heart flutter, and Linhardt’s lips were so soft when they finally landed, his hand gently caressing Ferdinand’s cheek as his hair tickles his skin. 

One kiss, and when the door swings open and Linhardt pulls away, Ferdinand is desperately craving more. 

Oh goddess, does he want more. 

It happens the next time the two of them are home alone. Caspar spends an ungodly amount of time at the gym, even after his basketball practices, leaving the apartment quiet for hours after class. Hubert sneaks off every so often to “check on Edelgard”, his lifelong best friend. 

Before, when the house was alone, Ferdinand would blast music and do chores around the place and sing along while Linhardt did… whatever it was he did alone in his room. 

But now?

Ferdinand tentatively knocks on the door, fingers twisting together. “Linhardt?” He calls, pushing the door open to peer inside. “Are you in here?” 

“Where else would I be?” Linhardt retorts, laying on his stomach on his bed, book open in front of him. He looks mildly bored, even more so than usual. “Did you need something, Ferdinand?” 

_ You,  _ Ferdinand thinks, and he steps forward, letting the door slam behind him with a wince. “Oh, no matter,” he says, drawing closer. Linhardt doesn’t say anything of it, merely returning his attention to his book. “What is it you are reading?” 

“Something boring,” Linhardt answers, and his voice is so monotone Ferdinand simply cannot tell how genuine he’s being. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.” 

Ferdinand sits down on Linhardt’s bed, and Linhardt turns his head to look at him. His hair is still pulled up in a loose bun - probably from the school day - and he has that same half-lidded look of affection in his eyes that he did the last time they had kissed. Ferdinand swallows thickly. 

“Have I mentioned how beautiful you are?” The words fall out of his mouth easily, and far too quickly, and Ferdinand feels his cheeks color red-hot with embarrassment. He’d feel guilty, except Linhardt looks the same, pale skin flushing almost pink at the compliment. 

“You could stand to mention it more,” the other says, and somehow he sounds so calm, so put-together. A voice in Ferdinand itches in his mind, pictures how  _ pretty  _ Lin would look when he’s falling apart under a gentle touch, how  _ nice  _ it would be to ruin that composure… 

All of which are highly inappropriate, but he cannot stop thinking about it. 

“Maybe I will then,” he hums, reaching out to flick at Linhardt’s hair. It’s soft, much softer than Ferdinand’s own, and he swallows again, “because  _ goddess,  _ Lin. I think without that attitude of yours, I could be in love with you.” 

And that’s too real, and his gaze flickers downwards so he doesn’t have to look at Linhardt’s expression. He’s fully expecting something horrible, to be kicked out of the room, or worse, kicked out of the apartment. 

None of that happens, though. Instead, he hears Linhard hum. “You came here for a reason, Ferdinand. Would you care to tell me why?” He hums again, “there’s not much I’d say no to, you know. Not to you.” 

_ Not to you.  _

And Linhardt doesn’t lie, he doesn’t joke around when the situation calls for him to be serious, so Ferdinand believes him. He raises his gaze, meets Linhardt’s blue, and releases a soft sigh at the sight. 

“I want to kiss you,” he says plainly, as straight-forward as he can muster, “may I kiss you?” 

Linhardt chuckles, a light breathy sound, and nods, “I told you before, all you need to do is ask.” 

They’re still sitting on Linhardt’s bed - for Linhardt had sat up, book falling to the floor forgotten - and already so so close to each other. It’s ever-so easy for Ferdinand to lean in, brush his hand against Linhardt’s jaw, trail his fingers up Linhardt’s cheek. Linhardt shivers at the touch, his breath coming in shaky exhales, and he’s so  _ pretty _ Ferdinand cannot help but savor each touch. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs, and before Linhardt can respond to the compliment, Ferdinand closes the distance between them. 

It’s a gentle kiss, at first. Soft, sweet. Linhardt tastes of the angelica tea he enjoys so much, a sweeter brew than Ferdinand prefers, and it’s pleasant. He can feel each shuddery breath, his hand tracing light circles into Linhardt’s cheek as he feels a hand tangle itself into his own hair. 

That desperate desire - the way he aches to please - surfaces with a passion, and Ferdinand scoots forward, using his body weight to his advantage and forcing Linhardt back onto his bed. It breaks the kiss, but that’s okay, Ferdinand knows he will get another one. And another.  _ Goddess.  _

As Linhardt lands on his pillow, face-up, Ferdinand gently leans over him, their legs tangling together in the struggle. Linhardt is staring up at him, his cheeks red, gaze heavy with some emotion. Love? Lust? Ferdinand can’t tell. 

Laying on that bun simply  _ cannot  _ be comfortable, though, and Ferdinand gently runs his hand through Linhardt’s soft soft hair, pulling the hair tie out as carefully as he can. Linhardt’s hair spills over his shoulders, and in the moment he looks so angelic, so heavenly, Ferdinand releases a shuddery sigh, wishing he could capture this image in his mind to keep forever. 

“Beautiful,” he repeats, and he leans down to steal another kiss, and then another. Linhardt is melting beneath him, and he makes a cute little whine in the back of his throat when Ferdinand compliments him.  _ Interesting…  _

“You like being praised, don’t you?” Ferdinand asks, and though Linhardt does not answer him verbally, his roommate releases a shaky breath, and that’s enough of an answer. “You like feeling cherished?” He presses a light kiss to Linhardt’s jaw, fueled by the desire to  _ please, cherish, love-  _

“Mm…” Linhardt gasps, and he twists his hand back into Ferdinand’s hair, his chest heaving. He’s not talking, not being that sarcastic jerk that Ferdinand is more accustomed to, and it’s such a nice sight.  _ I know how to shut him up,  _ he thinks, pressing another kiss into Linhardt’s jaw. 

“So pretty,” he whispers, trailing downwards. His voice is just barely loud enough to be heard, and his hands begin to wander, dipping beneath Linhardt’s sweater to trace circles against his chest. Linhardt shudders at every touch, giving light whimpers and moans that are barely audible. “Stunning,”  _ another kiss.  _ “So perfect for me, you know?” 

“Ferdie-” Linhardt trails off with an actual moan, as Ferdinand’s hand trails upwards, thumbing at one of his nipples while he continues to pepper kisses against his neck. It’s such a pretty sound, and Ferdinand is sure to say as much. “Don’t hold back, love,” he pauses his kisses, giving Linhardt his most adoring look, “I want to hear you. You make such pretty sounds like this. Is that alright?” 

Linhardt nods, sighs. 

“You must be getting hot in that sweater,” Ferdinand muses, his gears turning. They have hours to spare, after all. “I know I am. May I take it off?”    
  


“Please,” Linhardt sighs again, and his cheeks are so red, so lovely. The simple affirmation is all Ferdinand needs, and they shuffle around, dragging the oversized sweater off so that he lies bare. He’s pale as death, skinny and frail, and perhaps in a better mindset, Ferdinand would fret at the sight, but right now he merely captures Lin’s lips in another passionate kiss, licking and gently nipping his bottom lip. 

Still, he misses hearing Lin’s whines, so he pulls back, once again trailing downwards. “You’re so skinny,” he says, gently running his fingertips over the outline of ribs on Linhardt’s stomach, “do you need me to take care of you?” 

There’s a pause, and Ferdinand is positive that he’s not going to get a verbal response, not when he’s lazily draped over Lin, stroking his hair with one hand, tracing each bone outline with the other. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” It’s so quiet, barely over a whisper, but Ferdinand hears it nonetheless, and he flushes crimson. “Mmm… you like this a lot.” 

_ He should not be so vocal,  _ Ferdinand thinks, once he regains the ability to think cohesive thoughts.  _ It’s not very appealing.  _ Yes, Linhardt is much prettier when he’s being quiet, reduced to nothing but sounds of his own pleasure. 

To assert this, he hums, drawing his hands back up to gently play with one perk nipple, a small smile on his face when Lin sucks in a breath. 

“I much prefer you not talking,” he says, which is probably a good enough answer, but he doesn’t particularly care. Ferdinand bends down, traces his lips against Lin’s neck, feels the way he shudders beneath him. “You’re so much prettier quiet, and good.” Lin makes a muffled sound of protest, but he’s not talking anymore, which is a win. 

This could go on for hours, unspoken. But the front door slams open, Caspar shouts a muffled hello into the apartment, and their fun is over. Reluctantly, Ferdinand sits up, hands Linhardt his shirt. It’s depressing, and Linhardt is giving Ferdinand a knowing look. 

“Thank you,” Ferdinand says, when Linhardt is clothed and pulling his book back into his lap, “I needed that.” 

Linhardt hums, and smiles, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “I think I did too.” It’s a casual admission, and Ferdinand leans in to press one more chaste kiss to Linhardt’s lips, feeling giddy. 


End file.
